Quick Silver
by So Teeny
Summary: [Slight Roy x Ed][One shot] It's times like when you're drifting in a frozen body of water, that you begin to think about the end.


**Quick Silver**

_By Lain Blackchurch_

When he wakes up he finds it cold and hugs his blanket closer around his body. It's damned hard to get out of the bedroll, but he knows that it's his only decision for the day. There is the disturbing song of crows cawing along the line of trees outside the tent, bringing the forboding feeling of death into the Amestrian camp. People away to the sound and proceed there day.

Edward himself gives a stretch before slipping on a warm but thin and flexible coat as well as slipping his gun into the holster at the small of his back. He knows that it's going to be a long day when he walks outside into the snow that begins to fall about them as though upon cue. He sees a familiar figure as he walks towards the front of the camp, the one he's preferred to stay away from… but it's hard when that's the only person you know and you are able to speak with during this entire war.

"Cold morning," came the cool voice past thin and chapped lips. Edward looks up and notes that the Colonel is talking to him.

"It is…" he replies softly, staring out into the thickly wooded area. "How far are we planning to travel onwards to keep them off the borderline?"

Colonel Roy Mustang turns to him and simpers. "About eight miles or so, maybe more. It's going to depend upon the weather and however long it takes for us to pack up as well." Edward nods and looks upwards, watching black wings blaze a trail across the skies about them. A heavy hand rests upon his shoulder slightly, and he jerks. "We're in for a hell of a walk," Roy murmurs.

Abruptly, a loud crashing sound causes screams to erupt from Edward's left. He turns golden eyes to the sound, lids lifting from their once serene state. Oh God no, it's starting. He thought that maybe he would get a few minutes' worth of peace but those damned men just keep coming back, ready to kill and kill some more until they're nothing but bloodstains on the ground, damn it!

Edward tears away from Roy, clapping his hands together when another hand reaches out and touches his other shoulder.

Feeling somewhat angered by it, Edward turns around quickly and anxiously, but after seeing the expression in Roy's eyes, Edward sighs.

"You'd better not die…" Murmurs the superior.

"Whatever happens will happen," Edward says in return before disappearing into the fray. And what a fray it is with alchemic traces buzzing in the air and loud screeches coming from soldiers arise to meet Edward's already shaken senses. He fights and throws his heart and soul into the killing them all because he knows that in return he'll see Alphonse again.

One man rips at his shoulder, causing blood to surface and another throws him against the hard and icy ground, compressing their boot against his chest and bringing him to lose his breath for only a minute before stabbing their leg through and throwing them off with a well-aimed kick.

And then…

Clack.

There is a gun pointed at him, and almost immediately he feels his body go limp. Of course he's killed people, he's killed hundreds and hundreds of those Drachman bastards, but only with his blade… never with a gun. The man in front of him has an insane look in his dark grey eyes and Edward finds it hard to swallow or move out of the line of fire.

He doesn't want to be a soldier, he never did in the first place, and when they dragged Al back to Rizembool on that train with Edward kicking after the news of war reached his ears, things have never really been the same since then. He was dressed in uniform and handed a gun, which all though he was proficient at, he could never shoot a live man with it.

And he knows…

He's tried it numerous times.

To kill a human is wrong, but is it so wrong to live? He thinks as the man's arm is shaking now, but he pulls the trigger none the less and Edward feels himself being thrown backward, head slamming against the ground for the second time that early morning. There is a heavy weight on top of him, breathing hard and fast, and blood seeps into the snow from his benefactor's thigh.

"Oh God…" he says aloud, finding himself growing dizzy. The face is so familiar it brings him to lose track of where he is and welcome the darkness that comes when the butt of a gun smacks him at the base of his neck. Warm fingers abruptly grab his wrist firmly, almost comfortingly as there is the pulling feeling of sinking.

* * *

He doesn't know how long they've been floating in the water, and the minutes seem to pass by like hours as he drifts in and out of consciousness. His head hurts like a mother-fucker and every time he tries to focus on something it tends to blur either from blood caking at his eyelashes or just from the blow to his head. However, he quickly reminds himself that if he goes blind now, it's all over. Maybe it was that gunshot and then the kick that threw him into the chasm, or the body falling on top of his own, limp and damp with blood as well.

The unresponsive Colonel merely shifts slightly in the water as subordinate clings to his waist tightly, burying his face in the icy and wet blue jacket taking the time to do something that he's frowned upon since he failed the damned transmutation. Prayed… yes, he's praying now and all he can feel is the water numbing his lower body and his teeth clicking in his jaw as he clasps his hands together slightly while leaning against the dark-haired man lightly. Don't you dare fucking die on me now! He demands mentally and ceases his brief respite of meditation.

Abruptly there is a hand that rests upon his shoulder and all at once his body feels like it simply melted at the touch. He collapses onto the body, dryly heaving out of exhaustion and of holding his breath. Black eyes open slightly, lashes frosted with white slightly. One look upwards is all the Colonel needs before changing the gaze to his subordinate quickly. "Damn you, Fullmetal… all this damned trouble because of—"

"—You," Fullmetal finishes in a clipped tone before laying his head across the Colonel's stomach, shutting his eyes if only for a moment. "This is your fucking mess, you should have just let me die up there instead of taken the bullet for me. You know that's a stupid stunt that only works in those operas and stuff that you like…" The boy looks at him and clutches harder. "I hate you." Those three words come so naturally from his lips now and that single phrase has been his favorite since he was young.

"Edward…" The Colonel sighs and shakes his head slightly, rippling the water so that it forms an ironic-looking crown. His name means king, it's simply ridiculous that he should have a crown at the moment for being such a jackass. "You know that you dying will cause a rip in your brother's heart. He'll commit suicide… jump in a lake and get his blood seal washed off, you know no good will come of that." Edward looks away for a moment before setting a hand on the Colonel's temples and glaring.

Moving slightly down the body, he notes that the makeshift bandage that has lasted hours has finally given out from the blood at the military official's thigh. Patiently, Edward wonders just how the hell he's going to manage to make another one. The first one called for a wall to support him upright in the water and now this one? Abruptly, a grip casts itself out at his shoulder once more, and Edward stiffens only to turn around. Damn Roy and his stupid surprises. This certainly isn't one of them.

Without a word, Edward untucks his black mock turtleneck and rips off a strip of the white undershirt, feeling the area about his chest become much colder, and he shivers. Shifting again with Roy at his back, he unties the first bandage and affixes the second one, finally returning to his position before, leaning on Roy's stomach and thinking about their inevitable doom. People have called him pessimistic, and this time is certainly like any other… how will they die? Will it be arguing? Will they give out at the same time?

Again, he trembles slightly and shuts his eyes. Don't sleep… if you fall asleep you're going to die. "The sky's always so blue in the winter," Roy abruptly notes, hand on Edward's head, jerking him to a conscious state. "Don't you agree?" His fingers are warm, pressing into Edward's scalp firmly so that it hurts just slightly and awakens him from his silent state.

"What? Oh… yeah… I suppose that it is."

"And it's such a shame to ruin all that snow with our blood, isn't it?"

"We kill and get killed… that's how we humans work these days." Edward raises his head and looks into lacquer black eyes. "A terrible fate were all resigned to… but hey, we live more than our share of years. Some only live hours before the inevitable."

"You shouldn't think like that, Edward…" Roy sighs softly and relaxes slightly. One tense muscle would bring him out from beneath Edward's head, and that simply wouldn't do.

"I thought I was 'Fullmetal'?"

"Can't I call you by your God-given name?"

"No," Edward answers. "Because it's not right."

Edward himself know that that isn't a good reason for Roy Mustang, but it keeps the damned man quiet for a long time. Too long, however when he looks down he sees that the Colonel is still staring at him and smirks when Edward turns to face him. "Why don't you give a kick or two, we're not really going anywhere…" Checking over his shoulder as though there was someone following them, he thrusts his body in the water and nudges Roy forward slightly.

"You're too damn heavy, you bastard…"

Roy shrugs, causing Edward to push again, this time much harder. The water is numbing to his entire body, forcing him to make only small advances toward a small and packed mound of hard ice and snow against the cavernous walls. He feels his breath come in short gasps as he shoves and pushes firmly until finally the Colonel gives a cry of pain when they reach the even colder shore. However, Edward doesn't mind and merely collapses onto the icy floor of it.

His clothes are water-logged, his breath is erratic and terribly uneven, there is blood crusting at the crown of his hair-line and he can't feel his legs.

But he's alive.

When he looks to his left he sees Roy edging up the wall with his feet braced firmly on the ground and his eyes screwed shut in pain. "Just don't move," Edward mumbles softly, feeling himself tremble slightly from head to heel, his body arcing slightly. "Feels like I just took one in the head..." He raises his hand to his temples and groans loudly.

"Edward?"

"Wake me up when it's been an hour or so... I'll change your bandage and then I'll probably have an idea."

"No," Roy hisses firmly. "If you fall asleep then we'll both die. Me of infection and you of hypothermia. Get over here." The Colonel quickly begins to unbutton his coat and arcs backwards slightly when the cold hits his chest. "Come over here."

"My legs feel frozen solid."

"Then drag yourself."

"Do you know how hard it is to drag yourself when you're carrying steel on your leg?" Edward spits. Roy squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before reaching his hand out slightly and clasping Edward's hand that is laying off to the side like a discarded piece of fabric.

"C'mere..."

The Colonel's hand is warm, amazingly, and somehow they manage to cling together firmly, sides wet and pressing against one another. "God it's freezing..." Edward mumbles and feels a hand smoothing back his hair as his breaths become suddenly sporadic and his chest heaves quickly now.

"Calm down... Edward?"

"I'd prefer to die now than by someone else's gun, you know that, Colonel?"

"Edward! Shut up!"

"You shut up," Edward mumbles.

"Like hell I will. I order you to shut up now!"

Silence.

"Ed...?"

Silence.

A breath.

Roy rests a hand upon Edward's head, hoping that it will calm his sporadic breathing, but it only seems to chill him to the bone now when he touches Edward's eyelids and is frightened to find out that they are hardly flickering and that the breath coming from his nostrils is hardly present at all. At least, of course, the boy's death will be quick. And so will his.

He thinks of mercury, the element also called "quick silver" at one time. There was also a Greek messenger of the gods called Mercury, wasn't there? Yes. Quick. He likes the sound of that, and with the slightly limp body pulled against his own now, he leans his head back and lets out a gentle sigh.

* * *

"Sir?"

Roy feels his lids, heavy and stiff, open, but only just slightly. As he does so, a hand rests against his forehead and he realizes too soon, the feeling of Riza Hawkeye's warm palm and smooth nails. He turns his head slightly, and blinks a few more times. "Oh... hello there, Hawkeye."

She looks to him for a few moments before sighing and smiling.

"Good morning, Colonel."

Roy looks off to the side, and outside he sees black-booted feet moving about in the flap of what looks like a tent. Riza pushes hair from his face and assists him to a sitting position, in which he can view more of his surroundings. In one corner, he can see a stretcher and some medical supplies in crates. "How long--?"

Riza chuckles. "About a day or maybe a tad bit more. You were completely frozen to near death, I have to admit, and it was hard to get you back up here without jerking your leg."

His eyes immediately fly open. "Fullmetal...?"

"Over there," Riza gestures lightly to a bedroll somewhere around a few feet down. A doctor is quietly working over a head of blonde hair and the Colonel gives a rise to his feet, nearly collapsing until Riza grasped him at the shoulders. "Don't strain yourself..."

"Is he--?"

"The doctors have been debating for a while about whether or not to let him go peacefully, or finding some way to numb the pain enough so as to perform a surgery on his shoulder to set his collar bone... somehow it broke skin and now they've got to repair the skin and tissue."

"Let me see him," he demands firmly, and Riza, sighing heavily, leads him over to the bedroll, both taking the time to watch Edward's face twist in pain as his metal arm grasps the sheets. The doctor's hands are carefully cleaning the area with a sparing amount of alcohol.

"I don't think he needs to be stimulated at the moment. We just managed to get him quiet." The man states promptly. "I just got a report about a mild sedative but we don't have enough time to head over miles of snow and forest to get it. We're going to have to settle for liquor or he can simply do without."

"Two choices," Riza murmurs, the Colonel's shoulders tensing gradually. "I'd go with the liquor, Doctor, if you don't mind me saying so."

"We'd have to see what we have left," Roy says suddenly, knowing fully well that most of the bottles were probably laying somewhere cracked and broken in the snow.

"Hey... bastard..."

Roy's head turns quickly and he can see Edward's mouth moving as the man next to him gently brushes his cheek and neck.

"Thought I died, didn't you?"

"Not for a moment," Roy says firmly and edges over slightly. "Not for a single moment."


End file.
